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Feminism: Feminist Lenses

We've talked before about how feminist activism changes the way some of us look at things. Many of you have told me, in both comments and emails, that the habit of looking through feminist lenses at things like Narnia and Twilight has helped you to look with feminism at other things, too. (And I always love hearing how my writing has helped people grow and change in ways they are pleased with.)

We've also talked about how painful this process can be, when suddenly an old, comfortable, beloved thing looks wrong and problematic under a new light. And I think part of what we struggle to do here, week after week, is to strike a balance between being able to enjoy things for the enjoyable stuff in them versus being cognizant of the problematic issues inherent therein and being able to address and speak to those things, if only to ourselves.
And I know that, for me at least, this is a constant daily struggle -- the liking of things that have unlikable elements, and learning how to couch my praise and criticism in ways that convey that, whatever else might be my personal feelings for a book, movie, television series, etc. it doesn't mean that racism and misogyny and so forth occurs in a vacuum. Because it doesn't. But to a lot of people who haven't been exposed to literary criticism, and particularly feminist literary criticism, it's easy to miss the larger patterns and it can be difficult (and sometimes tiring) to explain things over and over from scratch.

Recently, I received an electronic advance review copy of the latest Dilbert book. And I kind of cringed a little when I received it, because I am fully aware that Scott Adams is a misogynist asshole and I was not entirely sure that I even want to review anything he's written anymore. And in fact this conundrum that has been bothering me for ages because I like to review everything I read, but I hate to give positive press to someone who is, at the end of the day, a vocal misogynist asshole. So I've already been dealing with a lot of internal conflict on that front.

And this is kind of a microcosm of the difficulties that can come with being a feminist in our culture. I do have a soft spot in my heart for Dilbert as an amusing commentary on my day job as an engineer. And I simply do not have the ability or bandwidth to avoid every creative endeavor which was created by a misogynist asshole, because the fact of the matter is that they are legion. So for months I've received the daily Dilbert comic in my email and I've not been motivated enough to unsubscribe, and I instead just look at the morning ritual of reading the comics as a sort of semi-painful daily reminder that life is complicated.

When I received this ARC in my email, an advance copy of Your New Job Title Is "Accomplice", I wondered long and hard about whether or not I could just set my feminist-cap to the side and only wear my reviewing-hat for once. I could note that the comics are mildly amusing, that the art is the same Dilbert art that we've been enjoying (or not, as the case may be) for the better part of the last couple of decades, and that this collection contains genuinely "new" strips (by which I mean, not previously published in a different collection) rather than one of the eleventy-billion retro "re-collections" that Adams keeps churning out by the bushel.

That review? I could write that review in my sleep. And I was genuinely tempted to, because hey, folks out there deserve to know whether the new Dilbert collection contains new strips or not. And I do very much like to be helpful. But it was when I got eight pages in and was faced with this paragraph in the introduction that I knew I couldn't take my feminism-hat off:

Eventually, corporate America excreted me. My bosses explained that I was unqualified for any sort of promotion because I had boring DNA and a scrotum. That's a true story, by the way. Reverse discrimination was a bit thing in California in the nineties. And for what it's worth, that was not the first time my scrotum had caused me trouble.

I get that Scott Adams is a professional humorist. But he's literally using an introduction to his newest book to claim that it's a true story that his career was stymied because he was white and male, rather than a person of color or a woman. And he's outright stating that this "true story" of his was also true for large swaths of white males in one of the biggest states in America over at least a ten-year period of time.

I went into this Dilbert book hoping that Scott Adams' misogyny and racism and assholism wouldn't affect the contents, that he would have the ability to separate out his toxic attitudes from his creative endeavors. Eight pages in, I realized that this wouldn't be the case, and that his toxic (and frankly laughable) beliefs can't be excised from his work. (And it's at the 58-page mark that this comic shows up, for the record.) And while a number of the comics in this book are amusing -- and, I privately suspect, are stories from the thousands of engineers who send in new material for him to crib from -- more comics than I am comfortable with reflect viewpoints that I just flat-out don't find funny.

Page 22 depicts Dilbert as an honest-to-goodness stalker, with the fact that stalking is creepy presented as the punchline. Page 38 and page 72 are rare examples of the strip sort-of passing the Bechdel test (except not, because they're Talking About Men), only to make the point that women supposedly refer to men by derogatory labels and descriptions when they converse together. Page 56 suggests that a dream job is one where the bosses are all attractive women who give out massages.

Page 67 depicts Wally turning down a lunch date because women "creep [him] out" as "a delivery system for viruses, germs, and unreasonable favor requests" and he instead takes a picture of her without her consent and states that he'll modify it for his viewing pleasure in Photoshop. Page 92 has Dilbert bullying a female technical writer on how to do her job, with a follow-up on page 93 in which the Boss (avatar of all wrongness) tells him to stop that and Dilbert puts him in his place. Page 96 has two strips in which the punchline is implied to be sex tourism.

Numerous pages -- at least 10% of this book -- show Dilbert mansplaining to various nameless, interchangeable women why their womanly notions about life and relationships are all wrong and stupid while the women silently cross their arms and glare at him, helplessly knowing that they've been beaten and stewing in their female rage. Ha ha, my aching sides. Page 96 was the point where I gave up and stopped reading; there's
another ~30 pages to go, and I know I've missed numerous examples of
sexism and racism and ableism fail as far as cataloging them for this post. I simply didn't want to re-read that closely in order to pick them out, and just went for the obvious ones that leaped off the page.

I've always believed that it's okay to like problematic things, as long as we're okay with understanding the ways in which they are problematic. And I still do believe that. I certainly can't get away from it: I like lots of problematic things and will continue to do so as long as pretty much every piece of media I consume contains problems. (The alternative is to not like anything, and I can't swing that.) And that's okay.

But I do understand that it can be so painful, the tearing away of privilege and the realization that something you once loved is now so problematic to you that it's painful to even talk about. Or to review. I get that, because I experience it just like everyone else. I can only see it as growing pains, and know that at the end of the day, I've gained more than I've lost.

24
comments:

Marcus
said...

@Anonymus

> My instantaneous response to reading problematic works is "oh, this is clearly meant as a clever deconstruction portraying how sexist/racist/homophobic/whatever our culture is." Like, for the strip you linked to in that older entry, I see it from the female perspective and the punchline is "oh dilbert's a jerk and it's a case of dramatic irony where we know why he can't get dates but dilbert doesn't."

This. So much.

Ever since I discovered Adams' poisonous opinions, I've not only been unable to enjoy Dilbert, I've been struggling to get my head round this, because *so many* of his strips work *better* read on this level than on the one he was apparently going for. Almost as if he's subconsciously deconstructing the bigotry which, at ego-level, he actively shares and supports. It's bizarre.

> My instantaneous response to reading problematic works is "oh, this is clearly meant as a clever deconstruction portraying how sexist/racist/homophobic/whatever our culture is." Like, for the strip you linked to in that older entry, I see it from the female perspective and the punchline is "oh dilbert's a jerk and it's a case of dramatic irony where we know why he can't get dates but dilbert doesn't."

This. So much.

Ever since I discovered Adams' poisonous opinions, I've not only been unable to enjoy Dilbert, I've been struggling to get my head round this, because *so many* of his strips work *better* read on this level than on the one he was apparently going for. Almost as if he's subconsciously deconstructing the bigotry which, at ego-level, he actively shares and supports. It's bizarre.

I think it's entirely possible that Scott Adams was at some point in his life subject to the dreaded (and extremely rare) specter of reverse discrimination. I think it's entirely possible that Scott Adams is so self centered that he assumed every man in the state of California had the same experience as him. I think it's entirely possible that Scott Adams is narcissistic enough that after that one time he attributed every single time in his life that things didn't go his way not to his own fallibility or random chance but instead to the evils of reverse discrimination.

From the attitude I've gotten from some of the "articles" of his I've read, not to mention the comic itself, I have no problems believing that. In fact, Scott Adams seems to me like one of those people who is convinced that his opinion and mindset is a universal one, and can/should be treated like universal truth -- Those Other People (you know, women, foreigners, anyone who isn't a white, straight, cisgender, middle-class American man) might have other ideas, but they have strange alien minds that nobody understands, and are clearly inferior anyway. Oh, and any white, straight, cisgender, middle-class American man who says he doesn't agree is clearly lying, probably for fear of reverse discrimination. How good of Scott Adams to speak up for them, huh?

Yeah, that, I think, is one of the reasons why I never really got into Dilbert (other than the fact that the artwork is so horribly dull and lifeless). The office-related humor is mostly lost on me, and much of the comic just gives me the uncomfortable feeling that I'm being preached to by some self-important jerk who thinks his word is gospel.

(I do remember being mildly entertained by the animated series when it aired, and thinking it at least was better than the comic... but I haven't seen it for years and have no idea how it would hold up today.)

I think it's entirely possible that Scott Adams was at some point in his life subject to the dreaded (and extremely rare) specter of reverse discrimination. I think it's entirely possible that Scott Adams is so self centered that he assumed every man in the state of California had the same experience as him. I think it's entirely possible that Scott Adams is narcissistic enough that after that one time he attributed every single time in his life that things didn't go his way not to his own fallibility or random chance but instead to the evils of reverse discrimination.

From the attitude I've gotten from some of the "articles" of his I've read, not to mention the comic itself, I have no problems believing that. In fact, Scott Adams seems to me like one of those people who is convinced that his opinion and mindset is a universal one, and can/should be treated like universal truth -- Those Other People (you know, women, foreigners, anyone who isn't a white, straight, cisgender, middle-class American man) might have other ideas, but they have strange alien minds that nobody understands, and are clearly inferior anyway. Oh, and any white, straight, cisgender, middle-class American man who says he doesn't agree is clearly lying, probably for fear of reverse discrimination. How good of Scott Adams to speak up for them, huh?

Yeah, that, I think, is one of the reasons why I never really got into Dilbert (other than the fact that the artwork is so horribly dull and lifeless). The office-related humor is mostly lost on me, and much of the comic just gives me the uncomfortable feeling that I'm being preached to by some self-important jerk who thinks his word is gospel.

(I do remember being mildly entertained by the animated series when it aired, and thinking it at least was better than the comic... but I haven't seen it for years and have no idea how it would hold up today.)

I find it easier to forgive sins of omission rather than commission. So movies/books about groups of Straight White Doodz are usually ok in my book - I might wish the cast were more diverse, but it's not enough to turn me off a work just by itself.

Creepy poisonous ideas about women or minorities, though - that'll turn me off. I can forgive a failure to transcend a kyriarchal culture, but not actively perpetuating it.

Oddly, it's rare (though it's becoming more common, thanks to this blog) for me to notice when a show or book pisses me off. I just gradually get less and less excited about it, to the point where I just stop reading or watching it, without ever DECIDING to stop. When (and if) I look back at it, I can identify what I didn't like, but at the time it's usually subconscious.

I find it easier to forgive sins of omission rather than commission. So movies/books about groups of Straight White Doodz are usually ok in my book - I might wish the cast were more diverse, but it's not enough to turn me off a work just by itself.

Creepy poisonous ideas about women or minorities, though - that'll turn me off. I can forgive a failure to transcend a kyriarchal culture, but not actively perpetuating it.

Oddly, it's rare (though it's becoming more common, thanks to this blog) for me to notice when a show or book pisses me off. I just gradually get less and less excited about it, to the point where I just stop reading or watching it, without ever DECIDING to stop. When (and if) I look back at it, I can identify what I didn't like, but at the time it's usually subconscious.

The odd thing is, I almost never identify with female characters, so it isn't as though I'm bothered on lack of viewpoint grounds. (Arguably, getting what I want would reduce the chances of a character I identify with, given that.) It just deeply irks me that adventure is considered a male genre and male activity. I don't know whether that's a leftover from when I really wanted to identify with female characters, or just me thinking it unfair that those who do identify easiest with female characters are left out.

Though, personally, I do find it an active perpetuation of the kyriarchy (only men do/care about this), if a much subtler one than horrid stereotypes on parade. I definitely understand preferring to avoid the latter. I do, too. I'm just really sick of my fun leaving other people out. :(

The odd thing is, I almost never identify with female characters, so it isn't as though I'm bothered on lack of viewpoint grounds. (Arguably, getting what I want would reduce the chances of a character I identify with, given that.) It just deeply irks me that adventure is considered a male genre and male activity. I don't know whether that's a leftover from when I really wanted to identify with female characters, or just me thinking it unfair that those who do identify easiest with female characters are left out.

Though, personally, I do find it an active perpetuation of the kyriarchy (only men do/care about this), if a much subtler one than horrid stereotypes on parade. I definitely understand preferring to avoid the latter. I do, too. I'm just really sick of my fun leaving other people out. :(

Dilbert's definitely one of those situations where finding out about the creator's personal opinions generated one of those unsettling internal debates about whether I could still like his work. Much as I try to separate art and personal opinion, I find that the latter tends to infuse the former, even if subtextually (see also: Orson Scott Card). I later lost interest in Dilbert for other reasons but for awhile there, it was a struggle.

It used to be something I could bond with my dad about, because he is a straight white male engineer who hasn't yet retired because he likes his job and can't really imagine doing anything else. The difficulty is that, while he's not a jerk, he's also unlikely to see why this stuff is problematic (even though he really likes the Alice character).

I remember watching the first Twilight movie with some feminist friends and one friend who likes to loudly declare that he isn't one, mostly to annoy me (I guess that sounds bad but in the context of our friendship and the things we like to talk about, it works). Said latter friend spent most of the movie working the grill on the back deck, and happened to come inside at one point when Jacob was on the screen. Said he: "Is that guy a werewolf?"

Said we: "Yup. How did you know?"

Said he: "The Indian is ALWAYS a werewolf." And then he went back outside.

He's Native himself and had just pointed out another Thing about that series that the rest of us hadn't, until that point, considered.

But that was easier because none of us were fans; we were watching it expressly to rip it up. People get personally invested in the things they like, and it can be hard to separate that out, especially for folks who aren't used to critical detachment.

What I've noticed for myself is that I am way pickier about new things - I'm willing to accept flaws in things I like that would likely make me decide to skip a new thing. (For example, I still like Tolkien, but probably wouldn't pick up a new fantasy that was about a group of white doodz, because, frankly, enough with the groups of white doodz.) Also, a number of things I sorta liked have become things I used to like. *considers* I suppose its a matter of things having to have enough going for them to make up for their flaws, and the more flaws I notice, the better the stuff going for them had better be. (Well, excepting some few things that I think nearly everything is wrong with but somehow like anyway...)

This post made me think about my reaction to the A-Team movie. Even though, in many ways, it was a better than average action movie, I just could not get past the... I'm not even sure what to call it... even though the movie had a few women on screen in it (a number that was no worse than many movies) it felt like it had no women in it. (To me.) I don't know if part of that is because I've read some nasty stuff about the show (that it didn't need women, because ewww girl cooties, basically) and the movie didn't improve on that. Or because I'm just really tired of groups of doodz. Or what. I know the doodness is inherent in the premise, but, jeeze, you could get around that if you actually wanted to. Or do a similar type of premise - group specializing in the awesome and implausible running around being awesome and implausible - without choosing a setup that leaves you with men, men, and did I mention the men? (Hell, I think that's one of the reasons why I liked Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. Same kinda thing, but, hey, there's women in the plot. And one on the team. Though I still long for the day when its unusual to have more than one white straight guy on a team.)

What I've noticed for myself is that I am way pickier about new things - I'm willing to accept flaws in things I like that would likely make me decide to skip a new thing. (For example, I still like Tolkien, but probably wouldn't pick up a new fantasy that was about a group of white doodz, because, frankly, enough with the groups of white doodz.) Also, a number of things I sorta liked have become things I used to like. *considers* I suppose its a matter of things having to have enough going for them to make up for their flaws, and the more flaws I notice, the better the stuff going for them had better be. (Well, excepting some few things that I think nearly everything is wrong with but somehow like anyway...)

This post made me think about my reaction to the A-Team movie. Even though, in many ways, it was a better than average action movie, I just could not get past the... I'm not even sure what to call it... even though the movie had a few women on screen in it (a number that was no worse than many movies) it felt like it had no women in it. (To me.) I don't know if part of that is because I've read some nasty stuff about the show (that it didn't need women, because ewww girl cooties, basically) and the movie didn't improve on that. Or because I'm just really tired of groups of doodz. Or what. I know the doodness is inherent in the premise, but, jeeze, you could get around that if you actually wanted to. Or do a similar type of premise - group specializing in the awesome and implausible running around being awesome and implausible - without choosing a setup that leaves you with men, men, and did I mention the men? (Hell, I think that's one of the reasons why I liked Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol. Same kinda thing, but, hey, there's women in the plot. And one on the team. Though I still long for the day when its unusual to have more than one white straight guy on a team.)

Can definitely relate here. I've gotten one friend so angry with me that they stopped talking to me for weeks because I answered their question as to why I can never like True Blood - I calmly and gently pointed out the problematic issues that bother me and make it so hard to even survive the first few episodes, and they became furious at me. Claimed I was wrong, and that I didn't understand the show, and that those didn't really exist, and that's not what the intent of the show is, and how there is only one way to interpret it and it wasn't my way.

This is why I'm no longer brave enough to have these discussions, and why I've become very, very careful when I discuss what I like or don't like (and why I like or don't like it). I just don't have enough spoons to handle that kind of reaction anymore.

Like you said, it's okay to like problematic things, and it's okay to dislike them too. Recognizing the problematic doesn't turn the material into a no-touch zone. It's okay if you can enjoy it to some degree and it's okay to decide that you can't. It's not okay to belittle and tear another person down because they see the problematic elements and came to a decision to like it or not because of it. It surprises me (even though I know it shouldn't) when I encounter people who think it's okay to bully/harass others who don't agree with them. I always end up pointing them to your wonderful posts on this topic in hopes it may help them understand. Sometimes it works.

Also, I very much understand your reaction to Dilbert. I used to like it myself, but then I started noticing a lot of what you point out here, and I became more and more uneasy until I finally had to stop reading it altogether. Though Alice definitely was my favorite character in the strip, even though I am pretty sure she was supposed to be one we weren't supposed to identify with. Sometimes, when in such stressful office situations where the guys are mansplaining and no one is listening or doing their jobs so you can do your own, I just want to kick everyone in the shins and give them a good yelling; so yes, can definitely identify with Alice wanting to beat them all up.

Can definitely relate here. I've gotten one friend so angry with me that they stopped talking to me for weeks because I answered their question as to why I can never like True Blood - I calmly and gently pointed out the problematic issues that bother me and make it so hard to even survive the first few episodes, and they became furious at me. Claimed I was wrong, and that I didn't understand the show, and that those didn't really exist, and that's not what the intent of the show is, and how there is only one way to interpret it and it wasn't my way.

This is why I'm no longer brave enough to have these discussions, and why I've become very, very careful when I discuss what I like or don't like (and why I like or don't like it). I just don't have enough spoons to handle that kind of reaction anymore.

Like you said, it's okay to like problematic things, and it's okay to dislike them too. Recognizing the problematic doesn't turn the material into a no-touch zone. It's okay if you can enjoy it to some degree and it's okay to decide that you can't. It's not okay to belittle and tear another person down because they see the problematic elements and came to a decision to like it or not because of it. It surprises me (even though I know it shouldn't) when I encounter people who think it's okay to bully/harass others who don't agree with them. I always end up pointing them to your wonderful posts on this topic in hopes it may help them understand. Sometimes it works.

Also, I very much understand your reaction to Dilbert. I used to like it myself, but then I started noticing a lot of what you point out here, and I became more and more uneasy until I finally had to stop reading it altogether. Though Alice definitely was my favorite character in the strip, even though I am pretty sure she was supposed to be one we weren't supposed to identify with. Sometimes, when in such stressful office situations where the guys are mansplaining and no one is listening or doing their jobs so you can do your own, I just want to kick everyone in the shins and give them a good yelling; so yes, can definitely identify with Alice wanting to beat them all up.

I've pretty much had a feminist perspective all along, so it hasn't been as jarring for me. If a story is too heavy-handed against female characters, I'll skip it. But often I find, especially in older works, hints that the author had more respect for women, or at least some women, than was necessarily fashionable to mention at the time.

With contemporary material, I find myself gravitating more and more toward crowdfunding and other independent ventures. Those let me funnel more support to the creators, and give me more input into the content. I can find or request a diverse range of strong female characters. And if the male characters then pick on them, I can use my next prompt to, oh, hit the jerk with a milk truck or something. The more annoyed I get with conventional entertainment, the more time and money I spend on the alternatives asking for stuff that actually does not suck. And I think there's a lot of that feeling behind the shift toward things like ebooks, blogs, fanfic, webcomics, etc. as more women get tired of consuming crud and look for something better suited to their interests.

I've pretty much had a feminist perspective all along, so it hasn't been as jarring for me. If a story is too heavy-handed against female characters, I'll skip it. But often I find, especially in older works, hints that the author had more respect for women, or at least some women, than was necessarily fashionable to mention at the time.

With contemporary material, I find myself gravitating more and more toward crowdfunding and other independent ventures. Those let me funnel more support to the creators, and give me more input into the content. I can find or request a diverse range of strong female characters. And if the male characters then pick on them, I can use my next prompt to, oh, hit the jerk with a milk truck or something. The more annoyed I get with conventional entertainment, the more time and money I spend on the alternatives asking for stuff that actually does not suck. And I think there's a lot of that feeling behind the shift toward things like ebooks, blogs, fanfic, webcomics, etc. as more women get tired of consuming crud and look for something better suited to their interests.

My instantaneous response to reading problematic works is "oh, this is clearly meant as a clever deconstruction portraying how sexist/racist/homophobic/whatever our culture is." Like, for the strip you linked to in that older entry, I see it from the female perspective and the punchline is "oh dilbert's a jerk and it's a case of dramatic irony where we know why he can't get dates but dilbert doesn't."

But I don't leap into defend the author before poking around a little and I generally find out along the way that it wasn't a clever deconstruction at all and Dilbert isn't an anti-hero and that we were meant to side with Dilbert and that no dramatic irony was intended and it makes me really sad.

But I find I can still enjoy problematic works if I ignore all that for a while and go "haha look at Dilbert's attempts to get a date. He thinks misogyny is a great strategy for getting laid! I wonder if he'll ever learn something from all these experiences of it not working out for him?"

My instantaneous response to reading problematic works is "oh, this is clearly meant as a clever deconstruction portraying how sexist/racist/homophobic/whatever our culture is." Like, for the strip you linked to in that older entry, I see it from the female perspective and the punchline is "oh dilbert's a jerk and it's a case of dramatic irony where we know why he can't get dates but dilbert doesn't."

But I don't leap into defend the author before poking around a little and I generally find out along the way that it wasn't a clever deconstruction at all and Dilbert isn't an anti-hero and that we were meant to side with Dilbert and that no dramatic irony was intended and it makes me really sad.

But I find I can still enjoy problematic works if I ignore all that for a while and go "haha look at Dilbert's attempts to get a date. He thinks misogyny is a great strategy for getting laid! I wonder if he'll ever learn something from all these experiences of it not working out for him?"

@Lonespark - yeah, we're supposed to sympathize with him as the unlucky ugly nerd surrounded by horrible co-workers, a Pointy-Haired Boss, and women who find him repulsive because he's a smart engineer with no social skills. He doesn't usually exhibit Nice Guy(TM) traits, thankfully.

@Ana - that's true. I always saw Alice as someone who was ready to commit justifiable violence against a jerk engineer and missed the whole part where she's supposed to represent a violent feminist.

@Lonespark - yeah, we're supposed to sympathize with him as the unlucky ugly nerd surrounded by horrible co-workers, a Pointy-Haired Boss, and women who find him repulsive because he's a smart engineer with no social skills. He doesn't usually exhibit Nice Guy(TM) traits, thankfully.

@Ana - that's true. I always saw Alice as someone who was ready to commit justifiable violence against a jerk engineer and missed the whole part where she's supposed to represent a violent feminist.

Aaaargh, this same reexamination thing has happened for me with Dave Barry's humor books, and there was no bigger fan than 13-year-old me. So. much. gender essentialism. Gaaaaaah!

I was never very invested in Dilbert, although skewerings of corporate culture could be utterly spot on... I really enjoyed the existence of Phil, the Prince of Insufficient Light, darner to heck of various ethical compromises...

I always figured the women in Dilbert comics weren't stewing in female rage because Dilbert was somehow right - it was because he was being a jerk and they couldn't knock him out without being fired from the company. The PHB would have made sure of it. Now, if Dilbert were actually a comic about how that jerk engineer and his jerkier buddy eventually got fired for it...

Yeah, having the lenses means that things that were previously unambiguously enjoyed now have their problematic aspects in stark relief. But it also means being able to celebrate the triumphs when something comes along and gets it right (or at least closer to right). And being able to rejoice when the trend looks like it's actually turning in the right direction.

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